Mental Hospital Stories
by kandicoloredclown
Summary: One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest AU. Interquel to my other two stories, this one is all about Anna and Bill's marriage.
1. A Risk of Catching the Crazy, Captain

_A/N-Disclaimer-any resemblance to real-life individuals, is of course, NOT coincidental, but just so we're clear, this is certainly not a 'real-life' actorfic, or RPF, or anything of the sort, rather a few details of Billy are taken from Brad Dourif's background, such as where he's from (which is never stated explicitly in the story, at least not yet, but I'm sure it'll come up later) being of French descent/paint manufacturing heir, any references to his having been a flower child, etc. Though, greatly interspersed with fiction, such as the name's of Bill's ancestors. Anything that I felt would enhance the character, and fit well, but this is a story very much about Billy, and his struggle to adjust to life, and marriage etc., after having been released from the institution. Brad Dourif is an actor, who by all appearances, seems pretty normal, who's life I don't have any curiosity about, except those details I mentioned that inform my writing of Billy. Who, though sweet and lovable is_ not_ normal, but of course, that can be part of the fun for people like Anna (though not his brother Jason, in the other stories).__ And yes, I know that Billy was from Oregon, not WV in the book or the movie, but it is AU, after all._

_Also, Anna is based on Winona Ryder, that is, not the actress in real life, but looks like her, etc. Mostly just because WR is one of my favorite actresses, she never co-starred with Brad (she was in Alien:Resurrection, but they never had any scenes together). She looks a bit like Nurse Pillbow, though, at least superficially (petite, large dark eyes, etc.) and she always has the most freakish, and/or arguably, woobie-like love interests in movies (Beetlejuice [arguably], Dracula, and of course Edward Scissorhands, who Anna's relationship to Billy is the most like). So Anna was a mean girl in high school, who felt guilty about it, and Billy was a bullied stutterer, who suffered greatly at the hands of popular people in high school, so conflict ensues. _

* * *

Bill, much to his brother Jason's chagrin, though, in retrospect, rather hypocritically of Jason, since he was a somewhat obsessive comic book fan, and, when Anna had known him, aspiring, artist, was a devout fan of the show _Star Trek. _The original series, mostly (which Anna could never resist pointing out, was "before her time"), but he was nearly as fond of _The Next Generation_, as well, his favorite character being Captain Picard.

"Because he's French, like me." Bill informed her, a few months after they were married.

"Indeed." Anna replied.

"Of course." said Bill. "On my father's side. My great-grandfather was _from_ France, you see."  
"Very classy." Anna said.

"Their name was Leray." said Bill. "My great-grandfather was the founder of a paint manufacturing company, you see."

"I know." Anna said.

"Do you?" said Bill.

"Yes." said Anna. "And if I didn't, I'm sure you'd be sure to remind me."  
"I don't care about things like that, Anna." Bill said, frowning, two concave lines between his eyes slamming together. Anna was suddenly reminded how easy it was for a person, especially a person who's opinion he valued, to just let all the air out of Bill, so he suddenly did a one-eighty degree turn from the sharp-eyed garrulous Bill, into a person who hid behind his curls, hunched over, and spoke in a whisper, or most disturbingly of all to her, when he tugged violently on those same curls, which he did at times when he was most embarrassed.

Now, no such extreme gestures were on display, however, Bill looked considerably less enthusiastic than he had a moment earlier, and Anna felt terrible, especially since she'd been only teasing.

"I just..." Bill said, looking at the ground. "I just thought you'd find it interesting is all."

"Oh, Bill." Anna said, frowning. She stroked his arm gently. "I do."  
"I really don't care about stuff like that, Anna." said Bill. "I'm not stuck-up. I just thought it'd be interesting to you, as an artist." Anna was completing her final year of university at that point, finishing up her art degree.

"It is, Bill." Anna said. "I was just teasing you, since you're so deadly serious, about your background, and all that stuff. You take yourself so _seriously_, is all."  
"I don't, really." Bill said. "I just like having stories to tell."  
"Okay, Bill." Anna replied, stroking his arm. "What was your great-grandfather's name, then?"  
"Charles." said Bill. "Charles Leray. He was a great man."  
"Sounds a little like a serial killer's name." said Anna, knowing there'd be hell to pay, but temporarily not caring.

"_What_?" Bill's eyebrows slammed together, this time in anger. One eye narrowed considerably more than the other one did.

"Joke. Joke." Anna said. "Just a joke, Bill."

"It does not!" Bill said angrily. "That's a very hurtful thing to say about the ancestors of someone you're supposed to love and cherish."  
"I have to love and cherish all your ancestors?"  
"It hurt my feelings a lot, Anna." said Bill. "I feel like you were saying it about me. Because I've been in a mental hospital."

"Oh, no, Bill." said Anna. "Honestly, it wasn't."

"Well." said Bill. He shook his head, looking sullen. "Seemed like it did."

"I'm sorry." Anna said, and though his ideas were a little silly, hurting Bill's feelings was something she hated to do. She leaned against his shoulder. "I think...Leray is a sexy name. But not as sexy as 'Bibbit'."

Bill cleared his throat, a trace of a smile on his face. "Nothing sexier than 'Bibbit', huh?"  
"Nope." said Anna. "When I hear the name 'Bibbit', now that's a name that just sounds...suave. Debonair. Seductive, almost."

"I know, it does." Bill said, smiling at her.

"Has all the...sophistication, and class, of...a skinny guy, with rabbity teeth, and protruding eyes, and-"  
"Anna!"  
"Well, that's what comes to mind, when I think of the name 'Bibbit', Bill." said Anna. "But luckily, all those things _are_ suave and sexy to me." She smiled at him.

"Well, I _am _debonair, Anna." Bill replied. "In my own way. I am French, you know."  
"Yes. You are." she said.

"On my father's side." said Bill. "But not my mother's. Did you know that my mother's great-great grandfather was a Confederate general?"  
"Hmmm." Anna said. "I'm not too sure I approve of that. Did he keep slaves?"  
"Oh, I don't know, Anna." Bill said crossly. "Must you always spoil things with that sort of talk? I'm not for the way the south behaved in the Civil War, of course, but he was fighting for what he believed in. He was a great soldier, who died for his country, and there's no need to drag his name through the mud, now is there?"  
"So he should be honored for fighting a war to keep slaves?"  
"Now, that sounds pretty ignorant, Anna." said Bill. "The Civil War wasn't just about slaves. It was about state's rights. So he died for the Confederacy. Just because he was a general in the war, doesn't mean he kept slaves, now does it?"

It sounded incredibly naive to Anna, but she said nothing, knowing that Bill took a foolish, but rather heartwarming, in many ways, pride in his ancestors.

"I guess it doesn't." said Anna.

"No." said Bill. "It doesn't."  
"What was his name?" asked Anna.

"Boggs." said Bill. "General Luther Lee Boggs."

"Oh." said Anna. "You know, my mother's maiden name was Boggs. Margaret Boggs."

"Oh, really?" said Bill.

"Yes." said Anna. "Kind of touching, that we have that in common, isn't it?" She smiled warmly at him.

"Sure is." said Bill.

"Unless it means we're related." Anna added.

"Pretty doubtful, Anna." Bill said. "That was way, way, down the line. No one closely related to me is named 'Boggs'."

"I know, Bill." said Anna. "Just kidding." She paused for a minute. "Of course, amongst 'Confederates', especially ones located...adjacent to Ohio, that might be a bonus. Do you feel that way?"  
"Not very sporting, Anna." Bill replied. But he was smiling. "I've always liked that name."  
"Boggs?"  
"Luther Lee." said Bill. "In fact, if I had a son, I always thought I'd name him that."

Anna tried not to look horrified, and cleared her throat. "You want to name our firstborn..." She cleared her throat again. "Luther Lee?"

"Maybe." Bill said. He looked at her. "Why? What's wrong with 'Luther Lee'?"

"Well..." Anna said. There was no nice way to put that if anything sounded like the name of a serial killer to her, that 'Luther Lee' took the cake, so she thought hard. "Well, maybe on a general from the 1800's, but in modern times, it sounds a little like..."  
"Like what?" Bill frowned at her.

"Like..." She trailed off, but then dispensed with all tact, for the sake of their hypothetical child. "Like a guy who chopped up everyone in his trailer park with an ax."

"Trailer park?" Bill said, his eyebrows knitting together indignantly.

"Well...sort of." Anna looked at the floor.

"Oh, so you associate me with trailer parks, do you, Anna?" Bill said. "Maybe I'm 'white trash', right?"  
"Now that's a very bigoted expression." said Anna. "It implies that to say other groups are trash is redundant."  
"Oh, so I'm just trash, then?"  
"Bill, I'm talking about a first _name_." Anna said. "And not even your name. Must you be so foolish as to think that your ancestors' names have anything to do with you?"

"I don't care, Anna." said Bill. "It was a shot at _me_. And not a very tasteful one either."  
"Bill.."  
"I was mocked in school, you know." said Bill. "I went to school in a different state, and they all thought I was a hillbilly."  
"Well, you're not." Anna said staunchly.

"Maybe I am." Bill said. "I am. But they we're not very nice to me because of it. In fact, they were downright cruel. I wasn't even a nerd. I was the class...freak boy."

Anna sighed. "It's just a name, Bill." she said. "Luther Lee, I mean."

"Well, it's the same thing." said Bill. "Implying that I had anything to do with trailer parks. I didn't grow up in a trailer park, Anna. We lived in a nice house. In a respectable neighborhood."  
"It was a poorly thought-"  
"And then, of course, there's the 'ax' part." Bill looked at her, a very unhappy expression on his face.

"I bet that's the part that bothered you the most." Anna realized aloud, quietly.

"All of it, really." Bill said. "So I'm a trailer park mental patient, is what you're saying? Who shouldn't be trusted with an ax?"  
"Bill, no." said Anna. "I was talking about the _name_." She shook her head.

"Subconsciously," said Bill. "You meant me."  
"Bill, I have no idea what I meant 'subconsciously'," said Anna. "and even if I did, I can't be held responsible for it."

"Well, it's a name that I told you l like." said Bill. "So it's very mean and hateful, to say it sounds like something you'd associate with 'trailer park' people. Not to mention ax-wielders."

"Okay." Anna said. "I'm sorry. You're right. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I thought maybe you'd think it was funny. Give one of those loud, piercing, Wicked Witch cackles I adore. But it was thoughtless. Okay?"  
"It sure was." said Bill. "Besides, I'm hurt that you don't like the name 'Luther Lee'. It's a very good name."

"Bill, I don't care if you like it or not, I am _not_ naming a baby that." said Anna.

"We'll see, won't we?" said Bill.

Anna was a very attractive young woman, with large dark eyes, and dark hair, however, she had one feature that she had always been insecure about, which was her ears. They were quite large, as a few less than polite individuals in grade school had loved to point out, and came to something of a point at the top. And Bill was no stranger to pointing it out himself, sometimes accompanying it with a loud, ringing cackle.

"Anna." Bill said one day, when she was in the middle of gluing some strips of paper for a collage.

"What, Bill?" Anna replied.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" He held out his hand, four digits splayed in half.

"Very funny." Anna said, shaking her head. She didn't want to pursue this further, since this was a line from the third _Star Trek_ movie, which was Bill's favorite out of all the _Star Trek_ films, for the reason that it dealt with issues of the soul, as Spock's soul was transferred temporarily to Dr. McCoy. Bill had a very specific set of beliefs about the soul, and ones that could not be argued with, not unless she wanted a great deal of emotional distress, for both parties. These beliefs related to an out-of-body experience Bill had said he'd had, while he was in the institution, after one of his, hearbreakingly and distressingly, many suicide attempts.

"You know, Anna." Bill said. "Mr. Spock is only half-Vulcan. Just like you."  
Anna sighed. "Bill..." she said. "Didn't we have many chats about what's...not enlightened to say?" She shook her head. Bill, who was not at all Jewish, had told her, on several occasions, that he associated Vulcan culture with Jewish culture, since Leonard Nimoy was Jewish, and a lot of the Vulcans on the show had dark hair, and dark eyes. Anna, being half-Jewish herself, did not approve of such statements, especially anything relating to "Vulcans" being highly intelligent, which she could not stand to hear, though she knew Bill meant it as a compliment, with the best of intentions, she worked hard at getting Bill to understand the concept of political correctness, though he always laughed at her for being so rigid.

"Enlightened?" Bill said. "What nonsense, Anna. Everybody knows it. Why, the Vulcan hand gesture is based on a Hebrew letter. Didn't you know that?"  
"I did my best not to know little details like that." said Anna, though she bit her lip in hesitation. "People might think I was a Trekkie."

"I don't know what's wrong with that." Bill stated, looking at her with widened eyes. "I was one when the show first came on, you know."  
"Oh, believe me, I know." said Anna.

"Oh, that old chestnut, is it?" Bill said. "Well, I remember you would come over to our house when you were a kid, and your favorite thing to watch was _Star Trek_. You and Jason would fight over the remote about it. I had to intervene several times, in fact."  
Anna sighed. "You know, it's weird when the person you're married to is able to recall embarrassing stories from your childhood." she said. "With perfect clarity."  
"I don't see anything to be embarrassed about." said Bill. "But it shows that you and I are alike. We like the same things."

Anna shook her head, looking at her canvas. "I...I know." said Anna. She looked out at the doorway, reflectively.

"I had a dream last night." Bill informed her, a few days later. "About a beautiful Vulcan princess."

Anna cleared her throat. "Really."  
"She had the largest brown eyes." Bill said. "And dark hair."  
"Did she indeed?" said Anna.

"I want to Vulcan mind meld with you, Anna." Bill said. "Do you know how to Vulcan mind meld?"  
"I..._don't _think that that means what you think it means, Bill." said Anna. "I think what you're suggesting would be 'most illogical'."  
"I know exactly what it means, Anna." Bill informed her. He cupped her chin his hands, looking into her eyes. Anna swallowed.

"Just like that, is it?" Anna said. "You just grab a person's head?"  
"You know how it goes, Anna." Bill said. "Don't pretend you don't."

"I don't." Anna said. She hid a smile. "I'm not a Vulcan."

"Pretend you were." said Bill. "A Vulcan. Just a little thought exercise."

Anna shook her head. "Okay." she said. "I'm a...Vulcan. But what are you?"

"What do you mean?" said Bill.

"What's your...planet of origin?" said Anna.

"Well." Bill said thoughtfully. "If I was from any planet in the _Star Trek _universe, I'd be a Betazoid. Like Deanna Troi. Because I'm able to sense others' emotions so well, you know." He looked at her matter-of-factly. "I'm very sensitive, you know."

"Indeed." Anna said, smiling.

"You could be one, too, though." Bill said. "Betazoids usually have large, almost black irises. Maybe you're half Betazoid, and half Vulcan."  
"You figured it out." said Anna. "That's what I am." She swallowed, biting her lip to contain laughter, her eyes flicking between his hairline and his eyebrows.

"Wait a minute." she said, laughter in her voice. "You...can't be a Betazoid. You have blue eyes. You're not one of us."  
"I am too." Bill said. "You can have blue eyes, if you're not all Betazoid. So I'm only part Betazoid, Anna."  
"Oh, okay." said Anna. She cleared her throat, a small laugh escaping.

"What's so funny, Anna?" said Bill. He looked at her, an expression of rigid seriousness on his face.

"Well..." said Anna. "Is it possible there's some...Ferengi in there somewhere?" She looked at him, unblinking earnestness in her dark eyes.

"Why's that?" said Bill.

"No reason." said Anna.

"Oh, I'm sure there is a reason." Bill said, looking at her, a sullen expression on his face. "You think I'm a Ferengi because of my teeth, is that right?"

"Only _part_ Ferengi." Anna said. "And no."  
"Of course it is." Bill said. "I have 'ugly crooked teeth'. Isn't that right?"  
Anna got an uncomfortable flash of Jason, standing near the stairs of Mrs. Bibbit's house, saying this very thing to Bill, and the shocked look in his eyes, upon hearing it.

"It wasn't me who said that, Bill." Anna replied.

"You're repeating it now." Bill said.

"No." Anna said. She shook her head. "No, Bill, I don't even have knowledge of this _Star Trek_ stuff the way you do. I didn't even know what kind of teeth Ferengis had."

"I don't believe you." said Bill.

"Well, you should." said Anna. "You see, it was about your...impressive forehead."  
"Oh, really?" Bill said. He glared at her.

"Yep." Anna said.

"And you have no shame at all, about saying it?" said Bill indignantly.

"Did you have shame, about mocking my ears?"

"Well." said Bill. "Ears are a lot less of a cruel thing to mock, than...foreheads."

"I guess so." Anna said. "I'm sorry. You're not a Ferengi, all right? You can be a Betazoid."

"Betazoids don't like being mistaken for Ferengis, Anna." said Bill. "But maybe I am part Ferengi. You really shouldn't mention it, though."  
"All right." said Anna. "Though...it should be noted that Betazoid-Vulcans...like Ferengi...physiology."

"Well, we like Vulcan ears, Anna." Bill replied. "But I like your...Betazoid eyes best."  
"Sweet." Anna murmured, smiling.

"Well." Bill said. He cupped her chin with one hand. "Would you mind meld with me, Anna?"  
"Well." Anna said. "What's the...logical purpose of this mind meld, Bill?"  
"Well," Bill said thoughtfully. "I've got some...emotional issues, I need to get rid of. I want to be...one with a pretty Vulcan like yourself."

"Oh. Well." Anna said. "Tell me about these...emotional issues."  
"Well." Bill said. "The...non-Betazoid part of me...can't control my emotions real well. Gives me a lot of trouble."  
"How so?" said Anna quietly.

"Oh...I've got some...disorders. That make me...useless as an empath."  
"What do these disorders involve?" Anna asked.

"Well, sometimes I'm happy, and everything's great. I feel great. Able to...get things accomplished." said Bill. "But then other times, I'm..."  
"Depressed?" said Anna. She took his hand.

"Yeah. Depressed." said Bill. "Afraid all the time."  
"Of what? Klingons?" said Anna.

"Could be." Bill said. "Or it could be nothing at all. Just for no reason."  
"I see." said Anna. Se blinked. "You ever...think about...jumping ship?"  
"What?" Bill said.

"Does this disorder...make you..." She reached over to his throat, and ran her finger across the scar that took up a good portion of it, the result of a horizontal movement of a broken picture frame glass, several years before she had known him. Bill closed his eyes, for a minute.

"No." he said. "Not anymore."

"But it did." Anna said.

"Yes." Bill said. "A...stardate far from this one."

"Of course." Anna said.

"They put me in the...brig for it, you know." Bill said quietly.

"I know."

"So." Bill said. "I've been looking for a Vulcan, all these years. To help me. And then one comes along."  
Anna put both his hands in hers. "I think I can help you." she said.

"I know you can, Anna." Bill replied.

"Being both Vulcan and...empath." said Anna.

"You're such a...calming influence." said Bill. "I mean, being logical and all."

"Yes." Anna said. "I want to meld with you, too."  
Bill pressed his forehead to hers, and Anna smiled wistfully.

"I dreamed," Bill said in almost a whisper. "That a beautiful Vulcan with doe eyes, and dark hair, came to me. And she made me feel things...that I haven't felt in years. For anyone."

"Oh." whispered Anna. "That wasn't a dream."  
"And in the dream," said Bill. "She and I were able to mind meld. And she was able to cure me. Of my bipolar disorder."  
"It wasn't she who cured you, Bill." Anna replied. "There was nothing wrong with you before."

"Well." said Bill. "Being one with her helps me. Helped me. In the dream."

"I see." Anna said. "I know it does."

"How do you Vulcans do it, Anna?" said Bill. "What do you say, in order to meld with others?"  
"You tell me." said Anna. "Being an admirer of Vulcans and all, you should...know it."  
"Well." said Bill, placing his hand on her cheek. "You say 'My mind to your mind-"  
" 'My thought to your thoughts'?" Anna said, biting her lip.

"Ah." said Bill. "Seems you do know it, after all. You're one of us."

"Possibly." said Anna.

"Well, say it." Bill said. He looked at her expectantly.

"My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts." Anna said, rolling her eyes amusedly.

"Good." Bill said. He gazed into her eyes. "You afraid of catching the crazy, Anna?"

"What?" Anna said.

"You seem kind of hesitant." said Bill. "To say it. Maybe you're afraid of the side effects a mind -meld could have."  
"What are these side effects you speak of?" Anna said. "Of melding with an...emotionally damaged Betazoid?"

"Oh, I don't know, Anna." said Bill quietly. "There could be some, though."  
"Oh, well." said Anna. "I knew that when I agreed to mind-meld with you, Bill."  
"Did you?" said Bill.

"Of course." said Anna. "And didn't care."  
"But what do you think I bring to...your mind, Anna?" Bill asked, looking at her intently.

"Well." said Anna. "A sense of fun. An...enjoyment of life."

"Yeah?" said Bill.

"Yeah." said Anna. "Um...unpredictability."

"Do you feel a sudden change between emotions, Anna?" Bill said.

"I knew that's what you'd think." Anna said. "No. I mean...it's never dull. With you. And now...with me."

"Right." Bill said. "What else?"  
"Um...a high intelligence." said Anna. "As most Betazoids display."

"Not as high as Vulcans." Bill pointed out.

"Uh...by Vulcans, you don't mean "Vulcans", do you?" Anna said irritably.

"Well, Anna." said Bill. "As you're always reminding me, you _were_ six in the third grade."

"So." Anna said. "That was not a result of being a "Vulcan", Bill. As you know, "Vulcans" don't like to hear that they're smarter than others. Especially since it isn't true. Any more than people who pronounce 'mental' to rhyme with 'fennel', are dumber than most. You can be perfectly smart, and be-"  
"Hold on." Bill said indignantly. "What did you say, Anna?"  
"You heard me." Anna said. "You can be perfectly smart, and be a hick."  
"I always knew you were bad news." Bill said. "Little whore."

"Okay. That's it." Anna said. "I'm going back to my work."  
"You're going to do no such thing, Anna." said Bill angrily. "I gave you a compliment. I've known Jewish people who were tickled to death, at the thought that they had superior intellect. You're a little idiot, is what you are."

"Well, those people are bigots like you, then, Bill." Anna retorted hotly. She couldn't believe how ugly things were turning, and how fast. She also knew that Bill was hurt by her remark, though that didn't make him any less annoying. "I know I never thought like that."

"I am not a bigot, Anna." said Bill. "Why, Mr. Cheswick was Jewish. He agreed with me. He said the Jews face so much persecution because of their superior intellect."

"Wasn't that the man that carried a large child's doll with him, when he was upset about anything?"

"So?" Bill said. "He was very smart, and well-spoken, most of the time, Anna." Bill shook his head. "He just had a few problems, is all it was."  
Anna sighed. "Yeah." she said. "I know, Bill." She was already feeling an oddly, maternal, especially since it was directed at someone so many years her senior, feeling, stirring itself over her feelings of annoyance.

"I complimented you." said Bill, looking at her, his large blue eyes full of hurt. "And you insulted me. Worse, you referred to my mental history." The careful enunciation of the 't' in the word 'mental', when he said this, did not elude Anna.

She sighed. "Bill," she said. "I don't care if Mr. Cheswick didn't mind. The point is, that I _do_ mind. I don't think that way. Assigning characteristics to certain ethnic groups."

"Well, that's stupid, isn't it, Anna?" said Bill.

"I don't think so, Bill." Anna replied diplomatically. "Because saying they're smarter could result in other, not so _nice_ stereotypes."

Bill sighed, shaking his head. "I wouldn't say a thing like that, Anna." Bill said. "You know that."

"I don't know, Bill." Anna said, shaking her head in dismay. "I always thought that the way you refer to as me 'that little girl', around Jason was a reference to my being Jewish." She was half joking, of course, but Bill clearly was unaware of this, looking horrified.

"No, Anna." Bill said, his voice filled with insistence. "It was affectionate. Because you were always so little. You were always the littlest, you know. You were the baby girl."  
"Oh." Anna said. "The baby girl, huh?"

"Yes, Anna." said Bill. "The baby girl."  
"_Your _baby girl?" Anna said.

"Of course you're my baby girl." said Bill. He squeezed her hand, but his expression remained morose. Anna sighed, shaking her head. She patted his shoulder.

"You said some pretty hurtful things to me, Anna." Bill said.

"I know, Bill." Anna said sorrowfully.

"You know, Anna." Bill said reflectively. "I was a kid, around the time of Freedom Summer. You know what happened then?"  
"Yes." said Anna. "I do."  
"Well." said Bill. "Of course, a lot of people I grew up with were very backwards-thinking. But my parents were always very progressive. They voted for Kennedy, and always talked against segregation of the schools. Even my mother was the opposite of the kind of bigot that you paint _me_ to be."

"I didn't paint you to-"  
"And you know, two of those campaign workers that were killed, they were Jewish." said Bill. "Of course, I was disgusted, and outraged when I read about it. I never once thought that black people, or Jewish people were any less than others, Anna."

"I never said you wanted anyone to be killed, Bill." Anna said. "I just said that you shouldn't stereotype-"  
"Of course, there were people like that where I grew up." said Bill. "I remember when Kennedy got shot, one boy stood up and cheered in class. Now that's the kind who'd be a Jew-hating redneck, Anna." He shook his head. "Those are the kind that beat me up every day, outside the cafeteria."

"I never said you were a 'Jew-hating redneck', now, Bill." Anna said.  
"You might as well have." Bill said. "I can't believe you don't realize that I'm just the opposite. When I was younger, I would have gladly married someone of a different race. Would have considered it a special honor. Of course, now I know, that you should marry someone because you love them for themselves, not seek out a certain characteristic."

"Of course." Anna said. She frowned. "Wasn't that 'someone' Tiffany?"

"She was." said Bill. "Half. And her grandparents were very strict about not dating white people. Of course, she didn't listen, but her sister was a viperous little bitch. She'd do anything to stay on their grandparents' good side, including pretend she didn't believe in dating non-Asians, either. I knew that, but it didn't mean that it didn't hurt, because I thought that Tiffany was embarrassed by me."

"I hope it...hurts less now." Anna said, frowning.

"Well, of course it does, Anna." Bill said. "If I saw her today, I'd feel nothing but goodwill toward her. All that's in the past."

"How much goodwill?" said Anna.

"Just enough to wish her the best, and move on, Anna." said Bill. "I'm a very forgiving guy."  
"I see." said Anna.

"But I was very progressive, when I was with Tiffany." said Bill. "She and I went to a bunch of bra-burning rallies, in the 70s, Anna."  
"Indeed." Anna said. "I'm sure you did."  
"Helped her out of-"  
"All right." Anna said. She shook her head.

"I could help you burn yours, too, Anna." Bill looked at her, mischief in his eyes.

"Maybe you could."

"I've always been a fan of...really large...pairs, Anna."

"Shock." Anna replied.

"You've got _three_ really large pairs, Anna." said Bill.

"Thanks for that."

"Eyes, breasts..." said Bill. "And..."

"And what?" Anna said, though she had a feeling she knew already.

"Well, you are a _Vulcan_, after all." said Bill. "By which I don't refer to your...ancestry. Just certain features."

"Of course." said Anna. "Well, you are a Ferengi, after all. By which I do refer to your ancestry."  
"What ancestry is that?" said Bill.

"Oh, well...the kind that results in large foreheads." Anna bit her lip. "When one inherits from their mother, and their father, who is also the same person as their grandfather, who's the same person as-"  
"How could you, Anna?" Bill said, looking less than amused. "On your planet, big ears are considered highly attractive."

"Well..." Anna said. "On _your_ planet, which is...located to the...west...large foreheads are a sign of intelligence."

"I can't believe you would be so artless, Anna." said Bill. "Filthy slut...I mean, sweet baby girl."  
"Of course, that's not saying much." said Anna. Especially since it's hard to be unbiased when most people around you are your relatives."

"Anna," Bill said. "Since we've mind-melded, I now know how to administer the 'Vulcan death grip'. So you'd better watch out."

"And _I_..." Anna said. She bit her lip. "Never mind."

"What is it?" Bill said.

"Nothing."  
"Oh, just go on and say it." said Bill. "You're feeling crazier, aren't you?"  
Anna sighed. "No..."  
"I don't want to take my craziness, and transfer it to you, Anna." Bill looked at her, his eyes filled with sadness. "You don't want to be melded with me, I understand. I can benefit from you, but you can only be damaged by my mind."  
"Bill, you know that isn't true." Anna said softly.

"I just want to be the best...empath I can be, Anna." said Bill.

"Oh, Bill." said Anna. "You are. You already are. A great empath."  
"Do you feel crazy, Anna?" said Bill.

"You've driven me crazy, Bill." said Anna. She took his hand. "But that's okay. We can pretend I'm an...empathetic Vulcan, who cured you of emotional problems. By joining minds, with you."

"Yes." said Bill, closing his eyes for a moment.

"And we can pretend you're a...emotionally unstable Betazoid. Who drives me crazy with his...constant changing moods. So now I'm going to be...unpredictably mercurial. Capricious. Odd. Perhaps I'll have a loud, ringing cackle. Perhaps I'll start using words like 'directly', and 'in yonder'." Anna said. "Maybe I'll go like this a lot." She widened her eyes to their absolute maximum stretch, and protracted her jaw.

"I've told you time and time again, I don't like that, Anna." Bill said, his voice soft and low, hurt.

"Bill-"  
"I don't like you making fun of the way I widen my eyes." Bill said quietly. "I was in therapy for years, and one thing they recommended was to make direct eye contact with people at all times. It's how I overcame my stutter. That's how I keep from stuttering, Anna."

"I'm sorry." Anna said, waves of guilt traveling her mind. "I just forgot. I was teasing you."

"I know." said Bill. "But don't make fun of the way I widen my eyes. It's cruel, and it feels like it. It hurts, to be made fun of for some psychological deficiency." He gazed steadily at the floor.

Anna grabbed him, and hugged him tightly. "I'm so sorry." she whispered in his ear. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Anna." Bill said. He stroked her hair gently.

"And.." Anna said, swallowing hard. "You're a good-looking guy, and smart, and funny, and I'm sorry I said anything insinuating otherwise."  
"I know that, Anna." said Bill. "I don't care about that. Of course, remarks about my forehead aren't exactly welcome, but...I know you didn't mean any of it."

"I really didn't, Bill." said Anna. "Sometimes, teasing can get out of hand. But I don't want to be like those people who hurt you, in high school."

"I know, Anna." said Bill. "You're not like those people."  
"I was." said Anna. "My friends in high school would have had a field day, with a poor sweet guy like you." Anna had been a member of a very popular clique in high school, though she had detested the way that they had viciously persecuted other students, and in fact, she regretted saying this a few moments after the words were uttered, since Bill had in fact taken it upon himself frequently, to lecture and take her to task about what people she'd hung around with, and what they'd done to lesser members of the social strata in high school, all reported to him by Jason, who took great, sadistic delight, in pitting Anna and Bill against each other.

But Bill seemed to forget his defense of the little guy, this time, and smiled sweetly at her, a smile that lit up his face, and always made Anna melt, no matter how difficult he might have been behaving at any given moment. _Close-lipped, so you can't see his teeth._ Heather, her high school acquaintance, and queen-bitch extraordinaire, piped up, as she invariably did, in Anna's head, in some moments. Or at least that's what she always told herself, whenever she had a mean-spirited thought. Anna shook such thoughts off.

"You were never like them, Anna." said Bill, his voice soft. "You were always the sweetest person I've ever known."

Anna stroked his curls gently, wanting to believe that this was true, but sometimes she wondered.


	2. To Grow Middle-Aged Together

In addition to trotting out Chief Bromden's wisdom, often at the most irritating possible moments, Bill would frequently tell stories, often repeated time and time again, with no more than a three day statute of limitations on which they could be repeated, of things that had gone on in the mental hospital that he had spent nearly four years in, some of which were humorous, some of which were quite disturbing. Anna had come to think of these, in her mind, as 'mental hospital stories', though, she never said this aloud to Bill, which of course would hurt his feelings.

Tales frequently abounded of the orderlies, who were very abusive, especially one named Washington, who Bill had said had slapped his face extremely hard, when he had been put in the 'quiet room', after his scariest, and most deadly suicide attempt, the one that had involved cutting his own throat, after being left unsupervised in the hospital's psychiatrist's office. Nurse Pillbow, a woman who Bill said Anna resembled, had saved his life by pressing an artery.

A very icky tale abounded of a moment, during this period, when a cockroach had crawled inside Bill's clothes, and he was completely powerless to do anything about it, his arms having been restrained by the straight jacket they had put him in. This broke Anna's heart, as well as an idea that occurred to her, which was to ask how he went to the bathroom in the quiet room, but she didn't. Because she knew what the answer was. _You were both going in your pants, then, I guess. _'Heather' said tauntingly. Anna remembered that the real Heather was more than likely not doing so well in life at this point, as relying on one's looks could only get one so far in life. Heather had never been one for academic achievement.

"You know, I once knew a guy in the hospital, who said the 'f' word, as a substitute for the word fork." Bill said one evening, at a none-too appropriate moment, as they happened to be using forks themselves, in a crowded restaurant.

"Uh huh." said Anna, picking up her drinking glass, and looking at him resolutely.

"I saw a guy eat glass, once, as well." said Bill, looking back at her pointedly.

"Was that...a member of Parliament, in the manor house?" Anna asked, using a code word that she had devised, going by the initials of these two phrases.

"No, they didn't let us have glass, in the 'manor house', Anna." Bill said. "This was a friend of Tiffany's, who'd done acid, a lot."  
"I see." Anna said. Bill had also done his fair share of LSD, though, to be fair, that had been before he knew Tiffany and her crowd, before he'd gone to the hospital, (_and the __psychotropics__ and shock took the re-)_ in the late part of the 1960's.

"Oh, that was before my time." Anna always said, to stories of acid trips. "My mom and dad took their fair share, though."  
"Thanks for that, Anna." Bill said. "But remember, you're not so young yourself these days."  
Anna shook her head, at his assertions that the two of them were 'growing middle-aged' together, Bill already, in fact was on the far spectrum of middle age, and Anna resented the idea that she was herself middle-aged, greatly.

However, Bill always had looked young for his age, and was still a handsome guy, keeping most of his hair, and the sight of his silver curls always stirred a deep longing inside of Anna.

She would gladly grow 'middle-aged' with him, if only young and middle-aged wouldn't turn to middle-aged (grudgingly), and sixtyish, and then eventually sixtyish, and elderly. Because beyond 'elderly', there was only one thing left.

But she did her best not to think about that, because whenever she shared it with Bill, she knew it hurt him to hear such a sentiment. She would just have to be grateful for whatever amount of time they were given.

Karen, their daughter, was quite close to both of her parents, especially her father, of whom Karen had appointed herself personal guardian of, particularly against her grandmother, Mrs. Bibbit, who was all but reserved in Karen's presence, thanks to Karen having little fear of her, quite the opposite of the way her father had always been.

That didn't mean that Karen and Anna didn't have a few jokes behind Bill's back, however.

"Mom," Karen whispered, in line at the Clinique counter of the mall, one afternoon. Bill, not exactly one for malls, was waiting for them outside on a bench, not looking any too happy about it, either. "there's some creepy guy staring at you."  
"Where?" Anna said, turning to look.

"There. With long hair." said Karen.

"Oh." said Anna in mock horror. "Oh no."  
"He keeps looking at you, Mom." Karen said.

"Do you think he could be a serial killer?" Anna asked worriedly.

"I wouldn't risk it." said Karen.

"I bet he's got body parts in his trunk." Anna said. "We'd better get out of here."  
"He looks angry." said Karen. "He's glaring at you, now."

"Quit looking at him." said Anna.

"What do you think he wants?"

"Some sort of revenge, probably." said Anna. "That's how these things always go. Perhaps he wants to target the townspeople who ran him out of town." She thought of all the slasher movies that Jason had loved to go to, that Bill could not stand. In fact, some of the more tense parts of _Adventures __in__ Babysitting_, were apparently too much for Bill, as Anna remembered fondly, him saying that the movie was 'making my heart beat fast', his southern accent flaring on the syllables of 'my heart'. She shook her head.

"Maybe it wasn't his fault." said Karen. "He was just misunderstood."  
"I don't know." said Anna. Bill continued to glare, as he did whenever she did any kind of things that were, 'a complete mystery' to him, such as shopping for cosmetics.

"I bet he was manipulated." Karen said. "His actions were the result of a greater, more twisted, evil."  
"Like Leatherface." said Anna. "Or Chop Top."  
"Right." said Karen. "He was coerced."

"He does have the look of a sort of a creeping minion." said Anna.

"Mom!" said Karen.

Anna shrugged, smiling.

A short time later, Anna and Karen were shopping in the junior section of another department store, across the mall, when Karen cleared her throat.

"Mom." Karen said. "It's the return of some creepy guy staring at you."  
"Ah." Anna said. "The sequel. 'Return of Some Creepy Guy Staring at You'."  
"Part two." said Karen. "Part Three will be 'Revenge of Some Creepy Guy Staring at You'."  
"Then," said Anna. "I'll have to be the 'Bride of Some Creepy Guy Staring'."  
"Ew." said Karen.

"Oh, no." said Anna in mock horror. "I just realized something."  
"What?"

"You," said Anna. "are the _seed_ of 'Some Creepy Guy Staring at You'."  
"I can't be." Karen said. "No."  
" 'Fraid so." said Anna. "But don't worry. You can fight the good fight. Be like Laurie Strode."  
"Be in Activa commercials?"  
"Pre-Activa." said Anna. "You fight that crazed killer. So what if he's your dad?"

One day, when Bill was out taking the car to be fixed, Karen and Anna were watching TV, when the movie _House of Wax _came on. The plotline involved two brothers who lured in people to a small town, in order to be integrated, posthumously, into a wax museum, as exhibits. Towards the end of the movie, Anna noticed that one of the brothers was traditionally handsome, outgoing, and 'normal', by all outward appearances, to lure passersby into the museum, whereas the other brother was a deformed creature, who had long, greasy hair that he he hid behind, and mostly stayed behind the scenes, working on the grisly 'wax exhibits'.  
"Mom." Karen said warningly, looking at her.

"What?" Anna said, a startled, but slightly amused note in her voice.

"No, Mom." Karen said. "Don't."  
"I can't imagine what you'd be talking about, Karen." Anna said.

"Too far, Mom." said Karen, as the long-haired brother appeared on the screen, chasing the two teenaged protagonists.

"What are you talking about?" Anna said. "_You're _the one that sees something. So effectively, _you're _the one that said it."

"Dad would cry, Mom." said Karen. "If you suggested he's a twisted, sad freak psycho like this guy here."

"I wouldn't say it _to _your father, Karen." said Anna. "But since you said it, these two brothers..."  
"Mom.."  
"Remind me that your uncle, while he pretends to be normal, is a freak in his own way." said Anna angrily, shaking her head.

"Well, you are talking about someone who draws comic books for a living." Karen said. "He can't be that normal."

"He acted like a complete psycho, about his brother." Anna said. "I remember, he had me physically trapped in our bedroom for hours, telling me I couldn't urinate, all so that he could avoid seeing Bill."

"Why did _you_ go along with it?"  
"I let him push me around, a lot of the time." said Anna.

"But not Dad." Karen said. "Dad's sweet. He never pushes you around."  
"I never let him." said Anna. "Your dad can be extremely bossy, and stubborn."  
"Maybe."  
"But he is sweet." said Anna. She sighed. "And he loves us both very much. So I would never say he's like some hideously deformed thing in a horror movie."

"But Heather might."  
"Yeah, well." Anna said, shaking her head. "Heather's dead. Sad to say. So she won't be saying much of anything."


	3. Electric Lemonade

Bill had, since he was a young man, been a dedicated fan of the actor Jack Nicholson. This had started, when he, his best friend, and his best friend's girlfriend, (for whom Bill had nursed a secret passion) had gone to see _Easy Rider_, in 1969, and had dropped acid, and 'Jack Nicholson' had apparently appeared to him, in an acid-induced vision. Well, not Jack Nicholson per se. This vision had only _looked_ like the actor, but had introduced himself as one Randal Patrick McMurphy.

As bizarre as all of this was, good ol' R.P., as he apparently also sometimes 'went' by, became an imaginary friend of Bill's, and helped him through some lonely times at the hospital. Anna sometimes wondered why 'R.P.' couldn't have taken it upon himself to tell Bill not to save up Valium, and swallow it in large quantities, or cut his throat open. But all water under the bridge, as Bill was alive and well, at this time, no thanks to 'Randy'.

But be that as it may, Bill had always idolized this actor, even thinking that his brother, Jason, looked like him, though Jason certainly didn't mind going along with that idea, which made Anna think that maybe Bill was turning the wheels, and Jason was quite influenced by him, after all. Which should have done him some good, in her opinion, but of course, did not.

Bill loved all his movies, especially the ones that took place during the 'Jack Nicholson Renaissance' such as _Easy Rider, Chinatown, The Last Detail, Five Easy Pieces, _and _The Shining_. The latter, he had taken both Jason and Anna at very young ages, to see at the theater.

But he also loved Nicholson's later works, his favorite of these being the 1989 _Batman_. Jason had too, but had to be coerced by her to go see it with Bill. _Batman_ was still one of Bill's favorite films, though when Anna was younger, she had thought it a bit weird for a guy in his forties to gain so much enjoyment over a movie that was targeted at audiences 'our age', the age of herself and Jason. Saying this didn't earn her much approval from Bill, needless to say.

Jason, upon seeing the movie, had referred to Bill's ringing cackle as his 'Joker laugh'. Bill, of course, took great delight in this, though Anna had a feeling Jason's remark was less than affectionate. Though Anna at times indeed thought that Bill was just like a real, live Joker.

"Minus the killing part, of course." Bill informed her.

"Of course." said Anna.

"Yep. I always wanted to be like the Joker." said Bill. "Play little pranks. I had all kinds of little props when I was a kid. Rubber chickens, google eyes-"  
"Were those really necessary?" said Anna. "For you?"  
"Very funny." said Bill. He shook his head. "Did you ever have any unnecessary rubber ears?"  
"I had a necessary rubber jaw." said Anna.

"I'm sure." said Bill. He shook his head. "But of course, my mother shot me down. I had a little gun that said 'bang', too. Which she took away."

Upon which, Anna presented Bill, for his forty-third birthday, a pair of google eyes (though deemed redundant), silly string, and a little toy gun with the 'Bang' flag. Which Bill used frequently on her.

"Bang bang." said Anna, upon being 'shot', one evening. "Like the song by Nancy Sinatra. My mother and I used to sing along with it, all the time."

"Bang. You're dead, baby girl." said Bill.

" 'I was five'" Anna intoned. " 'and he was sixty-six'."  
"Now you're gonna get it, Anna."

"He looked like he was made of sticks." Anna continued.

"I'm an armed and dangerous man, Anna." said Bill.

"Seasons came, and things have changed." said Anna. "Luckily, I came of age."

"A child of only twenty-two." said Bill. "I should be jailed immediately."  
"Twenty-one." Anna said. "You're really closer to being twenty-_two_ years older, don't forget."

"Well." said Bill. "I'm still a young man, Anna. Why, forty-three is the prime of life."

"Sure is, Bill." Anna said, squeezing his hand. She shook her head. "We can call you 'Billy the Kid'."  
Halloween was a favorite time of the Bibbit family, and Karen loved to dress up in some kind of costume every year, usually as a fairy or a princess. This was what she dressed up as one year, when her father dressed as the Joker. Frequently, Bill forgot his shy, retiring personality when dressing up in costumes such as these, and proudly displayed his 'Joker laugh', for each of the neighbors whose doorbells they would ring, holding a spray bottle of 'Smylex toxin', threatening to use it on them, if they wouldn't give candy to little Karen.

"You better do what he says, mister." Karen, excited, informed one neighbor. This became their routine from house-to-house.

Soon, however, Karen got too old for trick-or-treating, and wanted to spend Halloween with her friends, which of course made Bill very sad, and worried. Also, her costumes were beginning to follow the 'Slut Rule', outlined in the movie _Mean Girls_, as Anna always would say, and much to Bill's dismay. Karen was persuaded back, however, when she was in college, and began to find a little hanging around with her parents, to be a little easier to bear, than she had when she was in high school.

Anna worked steadily on Bill's costume, the last one had been a little more slapdash, a coat that they had dyed purple in the washing machine, and a green wig. But for one Halloween, Anna presented Bill with a purple velvet coat, that she had had special ordered. The coat went on to double, the next year, as part of his costume, as Willy Wonka, from the original 1970's film, as Anna had always thought that Bill bore a slight resemblance to Gene Wilder.

For the Joker costume, Anna had decided, that Bill should paint his naturally curly hair green, with green hair paint, like the Heath Ledger version, though Bill thought that that one was 'too dark', unlike the Nicholson Joker. But Karen agreed with her mother, and Karen's vote had been what decided it.

Of course, the costume preparation was not without it's road bumps.

"I can't get the paint into these wr-" Anna muttered aloud in frustration, cutting herself off, when she looked at Bill, who was looking at her with an expression like she had told him an entire litter of puppies had been killed with a bulldozer. She saw his lip tremble, out of the corner of her eye. She put the brush down in frustration.

Bill was looking at her with some seriously un-Joker like moisture in his eyes. Anna looked at him, bewildered and stunned, mostly at herself. She sighed. She sat down at the kitchen table, next to him.

"Bill..." she said.

"I can't believe you said that, Anna." Bill said dejectedly.

"Oh, Bill." Anna said. "I...it was..."  
"Don't try and excuse yourself, now, Anna." said Bill sourly. "You think I'm old."

"Not old."  
"So I have 'wrinkles', do I?" Bill said.

"Only a few." Anna added hastily. "Just one, really." She smiled hopefully, at Bill, who, not to her surprise, neglected to smile back. She shook her head.

"Well, what about you?" said Bill. "What if I said that to you?"  
"I wouldn't like it." Anna said, looking down at the table. "I'm sorry, okay? It was...a thoughtless thing to say."

"You bet it was." Bill said emphatically. "I tell you, the Chief always said, women will try to get away with anything, if you let them."

Anna sighed, irritated now. "Can we just start over, please?" she said, picking up the brush.

"Are you sure you can fit it into all the little wrinkles, and creases, and-"  
"I'll do my best." said Anna. "Believe me."  
Things didn't go very well, that afternoon, that they were preparing to dress up for Halloween, with Bill being very obstreperous, and berating her at every turn, quoting 'the Chief', Tiffany, and even his mother, quite a rarity indeed, which showed her he must have really wanted to needle her. All quotes that pertained to exactly what Anna was doing wrong, and why.

But all of this changed, when Bill saw Anna in her costume. The previous years, she had not dressed up, in any way to speak of, but this year, she had decided to go all out. They had talked about Anna going as Harley Quinn, who was the Joker's girlfriend in the animated series, but Anna had vetoed it in favor of a motif patterned on the 1989 movie, to mach Bill's costume, which was definitely patterned after the Nicholson Joker, so she had decided to go as Vicky Vale, and Karen would go as Harley Quinn. For her costume, Anna had decided to go simple, purchasing a blonde wig, and wearing a white, long sleeved dress, as Vicky Vale had worn, at one point in the film, Anna's costume dress had been the dress that Anna had gotten married in, not a traditional wedding dress, exactly, but a dressy, white dress.

Anna looked at the man with the green curls, gazing back at her with the kind of adoration that the Joker would have for no one besides himself. She looked at his blue eyes, which were soft, and sweet, and filled with emotion at that moment, visible even among the undereye makeup, that she had carefully applied, to Bill's protest, because the Nicholson Joker had not worn undereye makeup, but Bill already had dark undereye circles, and Anna thought it would be a shame not to highlight them.

"What?" Anna said, still paying attention to him.

"You look so beautiful, Anna." Bill said. He looked at the floor for a moment. "My pretty, sweet girl."

Anna sighed. She held out her hand to Bill.

"Which way you goin', Joker?" she said, taking his gloved hand, only to feel a small current going through her hand, and hear a delighted, joyful cackle following it. Anna blinked, and shook her head.

"Or need I ask?" she said wryly. The 'Joker' continued to laugh loudly.

"Just a little 'shock' humor, Anna." said Bill, laughing gleefully at his own corny joke, naturally.

"Vicky." said Anna. "Tonight."  
"Of course, Vicky." said Bill. "Pleased to meet you, Vicky. Ready for a hot time in the old town tonight?" He held out his hand again.

"I'll pass on the handshake, if you don't mind." Anna said.

"Oh, don't be a poor sport, Vicky." said Bill. "But you are amazingly hot jelly, baby."  
"Thanks, Mr. Joker." Anna said. "But I don't really care to accept the advances of criminal masterminds."

"Is it because I'm crazy?" Bill said.

"Oh, you're not crazy, Mr. Joker." Anna said. "Just twisted."  
"I've been to Arkham many times, you know." Bill said.

"Hmmm." said Anna.

"The Penguin and I frequently play cards, you know." Bill said.

"Is he any good?"  
"Never wins a dime." Bill said. "That's what we call cigarettes, in Arkham. But you can't split 'em up, you know." Bill made a splitting motion with his hands. "That won't make a nickel."

"Good to know." Anna said, patting his arm.

Since all of them were a bit too old for trick-or-treating, they went to a restaurant, and drove around town, and went to several stores, in their costumes.

"Dad really gets into being the Joker, doesn't he?" Karen remarked, during a moment alone, when Bill had gone to the restroom, at a Thai restaurant where they were eating.

"He sure does." Anna replied. She was silent for a moment, shaking her head.

"You know," Anna said slowly. "Dad, of course, wanted his costume to be like Jack Nicholson's, from the movie."  
"Yeah." Karen said.

"And, as you know, you and I suggested that he should have a few touches in there like the _Dark Knight_ Joker."

"Right." said Karen. "And it was a good idea."  
"But he really doesn't remind me of either." Anna mused. "Or of any incarnation I've ever seen."

"You don't think so?"  
"No." said Anna slowly. "I really don't. I don't think that your dad is dressing up as the Joker." She shook her head. "I mean, just look at him. He has that laugh, he has that pointy jaw, those circles under his eyes, that wicked sense of humor..."

"Yeah."  
"The costume just highlights what was already there." Anna said. "Karen, I think we may be in the presence of the true, real-life Joker. The actual man behind the myth. Those movie and cartoon versions are just artist's conceptions."  
They both looked at Bill, coming out of the restroom, unselfconsciously wearing full white greasepaint, green hair dye, and bright purple jacket. And even at his advancing age, not being self-conscious was most definitely a rarity for Bill Bibbit.

"That's his true self." said Anna.

"Seems so." Karen replied.

The dinner had not gone entirely smoothly, however, Bill, who had been giving her little, glittery-eyed smirks all evening, in his gleefully abrasive persona, had asked Anna, upon her objecting to an entree that he had ordered, asked her if she was going through 'monthly times', and then implying that she 'should be flattered', at the thought that she could. Karen had cleared her throat, whispering in his ear that maybe he should tone himself down a bit, but Anna was already annoyed beyond all capacity to think straight.

Which had prompted her to, when the waitress approached, expressing admiration for their costumes, to respond. "Oh, thank you very much. Karen, don't you love 'Dad's' costume, especially?" Anna looked at Bill, smiling sweetly. "We're both his. Daughters." Bill looked like he might have an apoplexy, his eyes were bulging out so far.

"Vicky." Bill said, after dinner, outside the restaurant. Anna turned to him.

"Yes, Mr. Joker?"  
"You look a little depressed." Bill reached into the pocket of his long purple overcoat, pulling out a spray bottle, which had a hand-drawn smiley face with two X's for eyes. "Have a little Smylex toxin."

Anna felt a fine mist of water coating her face, and blinked irritably, the inevitable sound of a high-pitched cackle piercing the night air. Karen stood there, shaking her head, a look of dismay at being seen with both of them behind her Harley Quinn mask.

"Bill, I spent an hour applying my makeup." Anna said, glowering.

"Well, as the Chief used to say," said Bill. "You'll find no goodwill, when you mess with Bill."

There was a moment's silence. "I don't believe the Chief really said that." Anna said finally.

"You never know, do you?" said Bill.

Later, Anna threaded her fingers through Bill's non-joy-buzzer hand, her small white hand contrasting through his purple-gloved one.

"Vicky Vale shouldn't be having such feelings for the Joker." Anna said softly. "What would Batman say?"  
"That idiot?" said Bill.

"I don't know." said Anna. "I've always had kind of a thing for Michael Kea-"  
"Shhhh." Bill said, putting a gloved finger to her lips. Anna smiled.

"I'm twice the wild card that dull Batman could ever be, Vicky." said Bill. "Don't you want a guy with personality?"  
"A little too much, perhaps."

"You can never have too much." Bill said. "Think of all we could do together."

"I'm thinking." said Anna. She smoothed his curls. "You look pretty sexy with green hair."

"You think so?" said Bill. "You think I should make it a permanent look?"  
"Well, I don't know about _that._"

"You're always saying I should dye my hair."  
"I meant a _natural_ color." Anna said. "Not green."

"Well." said Bill. "Gray hair is a sign of maturity, you know."

"Maturity is apparently a concept foreign to 'the Joker'." said Anna, shaking her head.

"Well..." said Bill. "Maybe 'the Joker' doesn't like hearing you say that you just can't get the greasepaint in all those wrinkles."

Anna sighed. "Is that why you implied I'm no longer able to bear children?" she said, irritation clouding her voice. "I'm not menopausal yet, you know. I'm barely forty-two."

"You've gone through the change, you acted strange." said Bill, laughing loudly and appreciatively at his own joke.

Anna grabbed the 'Smylex toxin' out of his coat, and began spraying him with it.

"Cut it out." Bill, said laughing.

"You're really something, you know that?" Anna shook her head.

"Aw, hell, Anna." said Bill. "What do you care about me joking that you're old?" He shook his head. "_I'm _the one that's old."

"Oh, Bill." said Anna. She patted his hand. "You really aren't."

"I'm getting there fast." said Bill. "Man, life can be unfair. You get old, you get sick, you...have to be 'coaxed'." He looked at her. Anna raised her eyebrows, smiling. She cleared her throat.

"Uh...I don't think 'coaxing' the Joker is part of Vicky's job description." Anna said. "I mean, I'll do some things for a scoop, but that's pushing it." However, as she was saying this, her hand closed around the spray bottle of 'toxin' suggestively, caressing it. Bill looked at this gesture, a gleam in his eye.

"Well, the Joker never needs to be, Vicky." said Bill. "The Joker is ageless. Bill may get old..."  
"Oh, I think Bill's-"  
"But the Joker never does." Bill said. "I'm one of the most notorious criminal in history, Anna." Bill stood up, purple coat flapping as he did. Anna looked up at him from her position on their couch. She gazed at him, shaking her head.

"But I like sweet, gentle Billy." said Anna. "Where did he-"

"Billy's a chump." said Bill. "You're dealing with the Joker now, dollface."

"Oh, I see." said Anna. She felt very sad. Bill looked at her, a gleam in his eyes. He gazed at the ground for a minute, but shook his head.

"What good is it," said Bill. "Being one of 'them'? Being sane, and normal?"  
"Well.."

"I've got special powers." said Bill. "You ever hear of mood rings?"  
"Uh huh." Anna said.

"Well, I can change moods," Bill said, snapping his purple gloved fingers. "Like _that._"  
"Mood-changing powers, huh?"

"You got that right, dollface." said Bill. He stepped closer to her, and held out his hand towards her. She took it in hers, only to be 'gotten' with the joy-buzzer. She sighed, shaking her head.

"They tried to take them away from me, in Arkham." continued Bill. "But you know what?"

"What?"  
"Joke's on them." said Bill. "They only gave me special electrical powers." He squeezed her hand, 'zapping' her again. He snickered for a moment, shaking his head.

"Funny." said Anna, looking at him with uneasy sympathy.

"You had a hard time getting the greasepaint in the cracks." Bill said. "But once it's on, I'm the Joker, baby. And there'll be no stopping me."

"Doubtless."

"I'm completely and utterly...out of this world nuts, baby girl." said Bill. He searched in his pocket, and produced a 'Joker' card, handing it to her. She took it, glancing down at it, sighing.

"I," said Bill, punctuating his words with his customary direct eye contact, and projecting of his jaw. "am _not _playing with a full deck." He laughed.

Anna cleared her throat uneasily. She bit her lip.

"And you know what?" Bill said.

"What?"  
"I dig it." said Bill, looking at her.

"Do you?"  
"I do." said Bill. "Don't want to give it up. All those years I hated it. But it's a gift."  
"Not too sure about that." Anna said, looking at him uncertainly.

"Well, sure it is. Sure it is." said Bill. "You can call me 'Bipolar Bill'."  
Anna sighed ruefully. "Well, I'll think-"

"AKA the 'Tweed Coat Killer'." said Bill. "Remember that one?"  
"I do." said Anna. "AKA 'The Mothman'. Maybe 'The Zodiac', as well?" Anna thought of how Jason used to cruelly joke that they should check his notes for the spelling of words words with two 'l''s, on the end, that didn't have them. In fact, Jason thought that his wit was so clever that he felt the need to share this with Bill, only instead saying that _Anna_ had been the one who said it.

"Well, Bill would be hurt by that." Bill said. "That's hurtful with two 'l's'."  
"I didn't mean it." said Anna.

Bill shrugged. "But the Joker just _loves _it." said Bill. "It's a 'wonderfull' life, after all."  
"Isn't it though?"  
"And you know what?" said Bill, turning to look at her.

"What?"  
"You can't have 'Bill' without two 'l's'." said Bill.

"Indeed you can't." said Anna. "But I don't think you're the Zodiac." She said. "Just the 'Clown Prince of Crime'."  
"_Candy Colored _clown of crime, Vicky." said Bill.

"Candy colored clown of crime." said Anna. "Okay."

"I. Am." said Bill. "_In_famous." He waved his purple-clad arms in the air, and gave a grand cackle, then looked at her, and took a little bow. Anna smiled.

"And you," said Bill. He looked at her. "have only one fate."  
"Yeah?" said Anna. "What's that?"  
"Stand up." Bill said. Anna stood up, walking towards Bill.

"You," said Bill. "are fated to be the Joker's bride. It's your destiny." Bill swished the back of her skirt with his hand.

"No." Anna said breathily, in mock horror.

Bill ran his hand down the white buttons on the front her dress. Anna remembered the way that Bill had looked at her so tenderly, on the day that they had gotten married, with tears in his eyes, a sweet, almost angelic-featured, curly haired man who'd looked a lot less than his forty-two years back then. No cackles to be found then. But that was why he was 'Bipolar Bill', Anna supposed. He could, without warning, change into sharp-eyed, she supposed, Nicholsonian, acerbic, devilish, enthusiastic, slightly needling prankster, with the astringent Southern pronunciations, with almost an odd fluidity, skill, it seemed. To protect that 'other', achingly vulnerable Bill, there was no doubt in her mind.

"You look normal enough." Bill said, playing with the buttons on Anna's dress. "but inside, you're...one of us."

"Am I?"  
"Oh, yeah." said Bill. "Absolutely." He looked at her. "You want to be out there, with the rest of them, Vicky, baby? You want to live a boring, sane life?"

"No, I don't." she whispered. Bill traced her breast through her dress. She shivered slightly.

"You wouldn't have worn that dress," said Bill. "If you didn't want to fulfill your destiny as 'Bride of the Joker'."  
"I guess not, no." Anna said. She looked at him. "Will you carry me, Joker man?"  
Bill cleared his throat. "I can't." he said. "Arthritis, you know."  
"Oh." Anna nodded. She slipped her arms around him. "I won't hold it against you."  
"Better not." said Bill.

"Will you just hold me for a minute, then?" Anna asked.

"Now that I can do." Bill replied, slipping his arms around her shoulders. Anna leaned her head in the crook of his neck. Bill rocked her back and forth, gently. She sighed.

"Lucky for you I had a lot of practice," Bill said. "Rocking back and forth." He laughed.

Anna sighed resignedly, though she was beginning to laugh as well. "Can't you just let a nice moment pass?"  
"Also lucky for you," Bill continued, ignoring her deftly. "I had practice wrapping my arms around myself real tight. Almost like they were strapped in."

Anna sighed, shaking her head. She smoothed Bill's temporarily green curls, and looked at him, smiling.

Bill looked at her. "You ready," he said, punctuating his words with direct eye contact. "for an _electrifying_ experience?"  
"Isn't always, Joker man?" said Anna. "Isn't it always?"

"Ain't no Batman to rescue you now." said Bill.

"Oh, Batman?" Anna called hopefully. "Batman?"  
"Looks like he's not coming, Vicky, baby."

"Batman?" Anna looked at Bill, shrugging. "Thought he'd come by now."

"What made you think that?"

"Three is a magic number, after all." Anna said. "Or so I thought."  
"Guess it's not." said Bill.

"Guess _Schoolhouse Rock_ lied to me." said Anna.

"Too bad." said Bill. He squeezed her hand, the jolt going through Anna's hand again. She sighed. "It'll be a scream." said Bill.

"For now." Anna looked at Bill meaningfully. "But when all is said and done, at least...I hope and pray..." Bill looked back at her.

"That you'll be...just a Bill."


	4. Jason's Thoughts on Supervillains

One night in late August, Anna and Jason were in the car, driving to dinner.

"So," said Anna. "How's work?" Jason worked at a comic book store, while he was finishing up his last year of college. He was attending an arts university, and had aspirations of a career in the comic book industry, as an artist. This was a career that was met with some degree of disapproval from Bill, as, much as Anna hated to admit of her dear friend, did anything else that took away Jason or anyone else's, attention from Bill.

"It's okay." Said Jason. There was a silence.

"Did you ever notice," Jason said. "how many super villains in comic books have pointy jaws?"  
Anna laughed, and shook her head. "Now that you mention it, yeah."

"Odd, isn't it?" said Jason.

"That wouldn't be what draws you to them, would it, Jason?" said Anna. "Some sort of spite against your brother, now, would it?"

Jason laughed. "Wouldn't he be so egocentric and megalomaniacal as to think it. A true supervillain indeed."  
Anna bit her lip.

"You ever think," Jason mused thoughtfully. "some supervillains might have electrical abilities?"

"Jason…" said Anna warningly.

"That would be a great one though, wouldn't it? Some hick has to go to the funny farm and have shock treatment…"  
"Jason…you're trying to goad me." Said Anna. "I know what you're trying to do. If you in any way get me to have a part of this joke, you'll then go running to your brother and tell him that _I _was the one who came up with it."  
Jason looked at her. "Why would want to do that?" he said. "Why would I _need_ to do that? To break you up with your much older lover?"  
"He's not my lover, Jason, but you clearly must think I want him to be. Not realizing that the only thing you'll be doing is alienating him from both of us."  
"He wants you to be, I know that much. If it were any more obvious, it'd be written on his considerably oversized forehead."

Anna shrugged. "I can't do anything about that."

"Another good feature for a supervillain to have, by the way." Said Jason.

"Uh huh." Said Anna irritably.

"The more I think about it, the more perfect it is." Said Jason."There could be this bucktoothed hick from some place like West Vir-

"I do think you'd better change it a little for publication." Said Anna. "Wouldn't want any WV natives to read it, especially ones with a history of suicide attempts."  
"Who had to go to the bughouse, like we said. And then he got the hell shocked out of him so many times-

"Jason…"  
"That he developed electrical sort of…telekinesis. Liked to blast away all his enemies with it."  
"And cackle afterwards? He have a loud, ringing cackle, this supervillain?"

"Don't they all?" said Jason.

"What did the electrical abilities do to his stutter, though?" said Anna. "Would these superpowers take his stutter away?"  
"I'd imagine so, Anna." Said Jason. "Dialogue balloons in comic books have only so much space,you know."  
"Well, if any good were to ever come out of the shock treatment, it'd be nice if that could be it." Anna said quietly. "But of course it wouldn't. It takes perseverance and dedication, and…mettle,if the stutter is psychological."

"Uh huh." Said Jason irritably. "And he went around leaving notes, usually spelling things with two 'l's' at the end of the word…two 'l's' for 'Bill' of course."

"Again…" said Anna. "You'd better change the name for publication. Wouldn't want anyone named Bill to read that, would you?"

"Wouldn't I, though, Anna?" said Jason.

"No." said Anna. "No, Jason, I think you wouldn't."  
"Had this insane obsession with Jack Nicholson-

"Are you speaking of Bill or yourself, now?" said Anna.

"No, saw a hallucination of Jack Nicholson talking to him. All the time. Telling him stuff like he should be out in a convertible, bird-dogging….he was born in the fifties, after all…"  
"Jason…"  
"Instead of trying to control the town's electrical plant…"  
"Now why would a sweet guy like Billy want to control the town's electrical plant, Jason?" said Anna.

"Well…probably a girl. That's his usual motivation." Said Jason. "He'd want some gorgeous chick that wouldn't even go anywhere near him to help him rule the world with his electrical powers."

"Really." Said Anna. "Over a girl, huh?"  
"Always over a girl. In fact, a girl was what drove him into the nuthouse, where he first got his powers, in the first place. Celia."  
"Again, best to change for publication,Jason."

"But he never learns, however. So, that's always his motivation. Always wreaking electronic mischief to impress some girl, and not much else. Which makes him one of the lesser supervillains, of course. The ones that have the greatest weaknesses for things like women are always the easiest for the superheroes to take down."  
"Jason," said Anna. "You may be the world's worst brother."

"Of course, it's always unrequited, these feelings that he has for these women." Jason continued. "His only two girlfriends were named Stella and Thora."  
"Stella and Thora?"  
"Stella and Thora Zine, of course. Of the 'Zine' family."

Anna just looked at Jason. Jason shrugged.

"Don't look at me, Anna. He said it himself once, to me. Accompanied by his supervillain cackle, of course."

"Well, him saying about himself is vastly different than you saying it about him, Jason. Surely you know that." Anna said, shaking her head.

"I don't know, Anna. After we saw _Batman _a couple of years ago, I told him that he had a laugh just like the Joker's, and he didn't mind at all. In fact he thought it was the greatest thing ever, went to see that movie about three more times after that. In fact, if you ask me, he's way more into that movie than a man his age should be."  
Anna sighed. "That's a., Because his hero is in it, and b, because he knows you like comic books so much, he thought that it would be a way to relate to you. He thought that the convergence of Jack Nicholson and comic books would be something you could both enjoy a great deal, Jason."  
"Uh huh. Little realizing that I'd rather see it with you."  
"Well, thanks for thinking of me, really. But it wasn't my cup of tea, and it would have been the perfect opportunity for him to have spent the time with you that he so desperately wants. He's lonely, Jason, and needs someone to talk to."  
"Supervillains usually have a motivation that's born of loneliness and isolation."  
"Not the Joker." Anna pointed out.

"No, not the Joker." Said Jason. "You're right. Bill's type of supervillain would be more like someone who was easily manipulated by the Joker. Very…sniveling, and-

"Jason!"

"What?" said Jason. "Little too apt a description for you?"  
"I think what you're trying to say, Jason, is that if you were to ever make a supervillian based on Bill, which, of course you shouldn't do anyway, unless you had his permission, but if you _were_, then he would have to be one of the more sympathetic of the supervillians." said Anna. "Am I right, or wrong?"

"Sympathetic." Jason shook his head. "Pitiable, more likely."

"Yes."  
"Pathetic." said Jason. "Wretched." Anna glared at him angrily, and they were silent most of the ride.


	5. Baby Girl

Bill, though rail-thin as ever, had a liking for greasy hamburgers, which Anna could not abide. One evening, just such a taste had caused him to start vomiting profusely, and had landed him a visit to the emergency room.

Colitis, the doctor had said, noting that Bill needed to watch the things that he ingested.

It had been a scary time for her, having to spend _any _time at all apart, Anna spending hours, even past visiting hours, with Bill, reminiscing about the old days, and watching the hospital's cable TV.

It had also been the weekend of a freak snowstorm. Bill had not wanted Anna to leave, afraid she might get into an accident.

"Oh, come on, Anna." Bill looked at her, worry in his eyes, as a video of a smug, shirtless young man assuring women that their 'booty don't need explaining' played on MTV, unfortunately not for the first time that day. "What would I do if my baby girl got hurt? It's snowing like the devil outside."

"Oh, Bill." Anna swallowed. "I'll be fine. I've got to go."

"But Anna-"

"Your baby girl will be fine." Anna assured him." "Now try to get some rest."

The next day, before she went into Bill's room, Anna was accosted by a pretty blond nurse with dog-print scrubs, who smiled at Anna.

"You know," the nurse said. "I just wanted to tell you how lucky you are."

Anna smiled. "Me?"

"Yes." said the nurse. "Your dad is so sweet. My dad calls me 'baby girl', too. I couldn't help overhearing. I'm sorry."

This story was naturally passed on to Bill, at the very first opportunity. Bill shook his head.

"And then what did you say?" he asked her.

Anna shrugged. "I said..." She changed the pitch of her voice to be sweet, mellifluous, and European. " 'Professor Escobar is not my father. He is my husband.'"

Bill shook his head, sighing.

"That reminds me." Anna got up from her place at the kitchen table. "It is now time. For the return. Of _Sal_-ma."

"Got that snake?" said Bill.

"I hope you have a snake for me as well," Anna said, as she put a CD in the player, the beginning chords of 'After Dark' starting. "_Abuelito_."


End file.
